“I want to stop,” I said.
“Stop what?”
“Stop holding everything up. I want to see what happens when I let go.”
Ezoic
Nina smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
“Then let’s make sure you’re standing somewhere safe when it all comes down.”
The family reunion was scheduled for the third Saturday in June at Lake Anna, the way it had been every summer for forty years. Thirty-two members of the Cole family. A rented pavilion. Brisket and potato salad and Eleanor’s famous deviled eggs, which she made from a recipe card that, I happened to know, was actually printed off the internet in 2009.
I paid for all of it. The pavilion. The cabins. The catering. Every chair.
Ezoic
I baked the peach cobbler myself, at five in the morning, alone in the cabin kitchen while everyone else slept.
Before I left the cabin that morning, I slipped a sealed blue envelope into my purse.
